


In The Still Of The Night

by dametokillfor



Series: From Dusk Til Dawn [1]
Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Feelings, Human Ash Tyler, M/M, Train of Thought, fantasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 07:33:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12452628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dametokillfor/pseuds/dametokillfor
Summary: He can hear Tilly in his head, telling him how adorable his feelings are. She knew the second she saw Lorca in the same room as them, how Ash’s eyes were instantly drawn to him, how his whole face softened.He is adorable. It's awful.---In which Lorca has taken Ash in as a roomie, and Ash has far too many feelings in the darkness before dawn.





	In The Still Of The Night

**Author's Note:**

> I am super nervous about this. I've been a Star Trek fan over twenty odd years, and never written anything for it due to fear of fandom. So, uh, hi. :) 
> 
> This fic disregards the theory that Ash is anything other than a precious Hufflepuff angel, because this author will disregard any theory that Ash is anything other than a precious Hufflepuff angel.
> 
> Special thanks to [areyouarealmonster](http://archiveofourown.org/users/areyouarealmonster), who encouraged, enabled and has spent hours screaming about the boys with me.

Ash is still trying to get used to waking up in a bed. It's almost uncomfortable, after seven long months on a hard floor with nothing to keep him warm save for hope. Yet he thinks waking up to the sounds of Lorca’s soft, even breathing rather than Mudd’s snoring or constant complaining may be even more jarring.

He had spent his first nights on Discovery, after being release from medical, laid on the floor of his assigned quarters, but the floors were too smooth, too temperature controlled. It felt wrong. His roommate had also found the entire thing unsettling, and made requests for him to be removed.

Ash wasn't surprised. More than one crew member had looked at him as if he weren't to be trusted. A human who survived seven months in Klingon captivity must have done something _unsavoury_ to survive. Maybe not even been human. (Ash finds himself acutely aware of his heritage, what his 21st Century ancestors must have dealt with, the distrust and panic around the colour of their skin.)

Lorca had been the one to offer him the alternative. The Captain's quarters were more than big enough for two. While the crew got used to him, learned to accept him, he could stay with him. He could sleep where he felt most comfortable, be that the floor, or the cot brought in. It was unorthodox, but Ash was quickly finding Lorca was an unorthodox man.

He'd spent the first few nights on the floor again, Lorca having the room temperature dropped specifically for his guest. Eventually he'd begun slipping between the sheets of his cot, and been able to sleep to the soft breathing of the Captain, or the low coo of his Tribble.

More the breathing.

More _Lorca_.

_Shit._

At first Ash had put it down to hero worship. The daring older Captain, who'd saved his life and given him a second chance, who had his back. Who wouldn't have been grateful? Maybe even a little smitten?

But as the time passed, as he got to know Lorca, he realised hero worship was a little weak. Now Ash has become everything he hates.

He remembers on the _Yaeger,_ Maranville had had his fair share of blushing yeoman, and starry eyed lieutenants following after him, and Ash always found it ridiculous. The Captain was just a man, just as flawed as the rest of them. He wasn't the fantasy they always held in their heads.

But Lorca? _Fuck_.

Brave, and flawed, and beautiful. He was everything other heroes tried to hide, openly and proudly. Tough, but warm, at least to Ash. A man who opened his private quarters to a man he barely knows, just because he _couldn't sleep._

Lorca has his fair share of admirers already. Ash has seen the way the blonde security officer dips her head, and smiles shyly anytime Lorca talks to her. The green tinge that crosses the young Vulcan science officers face when Lorca praises them.

Ash had always considered himself better than that. He was a professional, intelligent, conscious of the fallible nature of men.

Instead, he's as big a sucker as the rest of them.

Which is why he's laid awake in his cot, listening to the soft breaths of Lorca. It's early yet, and there's no need for him to be awake but here he is. Wide awake, wishing he was laid next to the older man, feeling those soft puffs of air against his neck, those strong arms across his chest. Rolling to face him, kissing him awake, til that rich voice whispers a quiet morning against his lips.

He can hear Tilly in his head, telling him how adorable his feelings are. She knew the second she saw Lorca in the same room as them, how Ash’s eyes were instantly drawn to him, how his whole face softened.

He is adorable. It's _awful_.

Ash scrubs his hands across his face. He needs to get out of there, even for a moment. He slips out of his cot, and to the Captain's bathroom. Real water showers are one of the bonuses of rooming with a Captain, a chance for Ash to hide himself away, to think and to brood.

It’s also a chance to turn the water to ice when his mind gets away from him, and he’s thinking about how the shower is big enough for two and how they must smell the same, the same rich pine scent of his soap. Lorca had offered to requisition something for Ash, something of his own but he’d graciously denied. He liked the woodsy smell, and that was the story he was sticking to.

Ash’s mind is too far gone this morning, and the ice water is doing nothing to stave the hum of arousal coursing through him. He absently wonders, not for the first time, if jacking off in the Captain’s shower is counted as insubordination. He hates that Tilly’s voice is the one in his head telling him he should just ask Lorca, giggling sweetly as she tells him she’s sure the Captain will give him an alternative option.

And that’s part of the problem.

Tilly seems to think that Ash’s _infatuation_ isn’t one sided. Even Michael Burnham, who has been _very_ begrudgingly pulled into Tilly’s excited conversations, has agreed Lorca definitely seems to have some interest in Ash. She’s told Tilly, affectionately, to shut up when Tilly has gotten carried away but the thoughts have still set in Ash’s mind.

The thoughts. _Ha_.

The _fantasies_.

Where Ash would be in the shower, taking in the scent of the trees as he slicks the soap across him. It’s luxurious, the lather is thick, it feels almost decadent after months of grease and dirt. The door opens and Lorca would walk in, gloriously, unashamedly nude. Ash’s mouth would go dry as he took in the gorgeous, older man who still looked _so good_. Lorca stepped into the shower with him, take his face in his hands and kiss him like a dying man. They’d rut against the cool wall of tiles, slick, wet and messy.

Or they’d be sharing a meal in the Captain’s ready room, as they have before, and the food would quickly be forgotten about in the wake of how beautiful Lorca looked surrounded by the galaxies out of his window. Ash would tell him he was the brightest star of them all, and Lorca would smile and shake his head. He would tell Ash that he burned so bright, it almost hurt to look at him. Lorca would press Ash against the glass, and take him into his mouth, showing him just how bright he shone.

Or Ash would wake up, and Lorca would be gazing at him. There’d be a PADD on his lap, and glasses perched on his nose. Lorca would crook a finger, and Ash would cross the room and slip between the covers with him. He’d straddle his lap and let Lorca just look at him, as long as he wanted. They wouldn’t say a word as clothes were pulled off, and as breathing sped up. Lorca would slick Ash up carefully, painfully slowly. He’d tease him, just the barest brush against his prostate, just enough to let Ash know exactly what he was doing. When Ash finally, finally sank down onto him, Lorca would cling to him as if he was as afraid of the fantasy dying as Ash was. It would be slow, intense, love making, almost too fucking much.

It’s this one that Ash keeps in mind as he’s stroking himself to a quick release, his hand and the speed in his head at odds with one another. He can’t afford to take his time, to tease himself, not without his own space. His eyes screw shut as he chases an invisible kiss, both of their lips just grazing one another, barely a kiss at all. Their foreheads would press together, and Ash would wonder if that was so he could really see him.

Lorca would be quiet, his pleasure written across his face, no more vocal than a few low grunts that went straight to Ash’s dick. But he would encourage Ash to cry out, tell him how much he wants to hear him. He’d call out Lorca, and the older man would tease him, tell him that’s not his name.

Ash bites his lip in the shower, to stop himself crying out _Gabriel_ as teeters on the brink of orgasm.

The Lorca in his head praises him, whispers _Ash, darling Ash,_ against his lips and kisses him properly, and that’s what sends Ash over the edge.

He leaves his eyes closed for the longest as the water beats down on his back, washing away the shame and ridiculous flights of fancy he’s allowed himself. It’s not the first time he’s let himself get carried away, and it won’t be the last.

It should be the last. Ash really needs it to be the last. No matter what Tilly says, what Burnham ‘confirms’, this is Ash’s burden and his alone. He and Lorca are nothing past colleagues.

And that’s fine.

_Except..._

Ash can handle unrequited love, a harmless crush, it wouldn’t be his first, but this is something different. This is an intense burning, almost like a pain in his chest. The idea of getting over it, of moving on, of accepting Lorca will never be the other goddamn half of him is like daggers to his heart. He’s never felt like this before, never felt like the word friend would _kill_ him. He’s an officer first, and he can’t let himself be so compromised.

He turns the water down as cold as it will go, to try and bring himself back to reality. 

Lorca is a good man, Ash should be proud to just serve under him. He could be so lucky as to even call him a _friend_ one day. He can get past this infatuation, he can look back and laugh on it one day, maybe even with Lorca himself. The idea of Lorca still just in his life, in such a hypothetical future warms him a little, brings his brain back online.  

He washes himself free of the suds, and he finds he feels better, calmer. He can face the day, face the man back in the main sleeping area of his quarters. He’s Lieutenant Ash Tyler, security officer on the USS Discovery. He’s not a pining fool, he’s better than that. He repeats it in his head as he dresses, brushes his teeth and tidies up the facial hair that he’s been permitted to keep.

He faces himself in the mirror and reminds himself again that he’s not a lovesick idiot, that he’s better than that.

One final glare at himself, a final deep breath and he leaves the bathroom.

“Good morning, Tyler.” comes Lorca’s deep, sleep roughened voice from the bed. He looks to have just sat up, his short hair is ruffled and he looks like he’s still trying to blink away the remains of sleep. He looks soft, warm, _gorgeous_.

_Fuck._

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to play with the idea that everything seems more intense, more dramatic in the dark. Our minds wander, we make things seem bigger and heavier than they really are, and I hope the idea came across.
> 
> There will possibly be more story driven fic in the future, but the "we get it Ash, you're gay" overwhelmed me.
> 
> Come squee with me on [Tumblr](http://leonardsnarts.co.vu/).


End file.
